


gold blooded

by nekrateholic



Category: The Unit: Idol Rebooting Project (TV), UNB (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, euijin-centric, ft. a bunch of relationships. if you squint, set 5ish years from now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-01 00:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18325208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: It seems somewhere along the line, Euijin lost something important. Good thing he has a bunch of overgrown kids to come along and help him find it again.





	gold blooded

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  **NCT – "Go"**  
> [lyrics](https://popgasa.com/2018/03/14/nct-dream-go/) **|** [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cD8SYW8rjaQ) **|** [supplementary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143174185@N05/27232932142/) \- [prompts](https://66.media.tumblr.com/4e1236ac29ce35b9584aa612656e2a8b/tumblr_p7ye24qimv1vajttwo1_1280.jpg)
> 
> there's one thing you really need to know about this fic:  
> [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b0e2e5bfb5477e9a32683b976d1dae5d/tumblr_orac8tRN1r1txynxco1_1280.jpg) is kim seyong as the red ranger.
> 
>  
> 
> i have a million people to thank too but later. when i can properly express all the love w/o fear of exposure. i love you all ♥  
> title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtJ6Tk40elU) which i like to think of as the old people version of go

It’s been five years since UNB happened. Close to six, actually, and closer to five since they stopped promoting together. Euijin doesn’t like drowning in the details, though. It’s been five years and it’s honestly surprising how many and how little things have changed at the same time.

So when his manager casually says “They’re thinking of a reunion concert for UNB,” Euijin has to take a moment, a deep breath, before he replies with, “Okay.”

It’s not a question of whether he wants to. One of the things that never change is this: no one asks if you want to. It would be good for the group, so you do it. And Euijin knows it will be good for the group - they haven’t been very active what with Sungmin and Byunghwa’s enlistment, Byunghwa being a family man now. At one point Euijin had only Hyungmin and Hyuntae left which was quite an interesting experience. They did try a sub-unit, because why the hell not. The Makestar project was a relative success, as much as a Makestar project of a group in their level of fame can be. And then Hyuntae enlisted, too.

Now Sungmin is back and Byunghwa is about to finish as well. Hyuntae should be back in a year or so and if they play their cards right, this reunion concert will make enough of a splash so they can have another comeback once they’re all together again.

Honestly, even without the potential benefits for his own group, even if he did have a say in it, Euijin would’ve probably still said yes. Selfish as it is, he kind of misses the attention The Unit, UNB gave him. He kind of misses the others, too - but that’s neither here nor there.

*

When Euijin’s phone rings, the call ID is one he hasn’t seen in some time. It is, of course, very far from a surprise.

“Hey,” Gwangsuk’s tinny voice says. “Did you hear?”

“Yeah,” Euijin laughs. “My two remaining groupmates are so ridiculously excited it’s kind of funny.”

Gwangsuk doesn’t laugh along, though. “Two? I thought you’re still active.”

“We are,” Euijin shrugs before he remembers Gwangsuk can’t really see him. “Enlisted. So… hiatus, I guess? No one has left since the last time, though.”

“Ah,” Gwangsuk says, his laugh airy. “The number one enemy to all entertainers. Hansol is about to come back, too. Hojung finished earlier this year.”

Euijin makes a noise. “Look, I may not be the best at keeping in touch but even I know that. Won’t they be out of practice though?”

“Like that’s ever stopped anyone.” Gwangsuk scoffs. “We’ve all had to speed-prepare for stuff before, and this even has a relatively good timeline, considering those of us who are still… actively active.” There’s a bit of silence, and then, “You and I are probably the only ones in need of extra practice, gramps.”

“Daewon,” Euijin says on instinct. You’d think it would be more difficult to remember everyone’s birth years - the most important thing to know, really, is whether they’re older or younger. And that’s not exactly an issue.

(Euijin has all their birthdays saved in his phone. It had taken a total of two years to memorize them, though. At some point, he realized he's composing the happy birthday message weeks before his phone pings with the notification.)

"Daewon," Gwangsuk repeats, voice laced with amusement and something Euijin can't quite place. "Of course. How could I forget our resident angel."

And this, here, is where Euijin finally joins the laughter. "To this day, I'm not sure if he really came from heaven or hell."

"Hell, definitely," Gwangsuk states decisively. The line goes quiet and for a moment there, Euijin wonders if the call disconnected. Gwangsuk’s voice is quiet, somewhat far-away when he speaks again. "I miss hanging out with you. When was the last time all of us met up?"

Four years, close to five. It’s not like they haven’t met after that but there was always something - someone enlisted, someone on a tour overseas. Someone busy with promotions or just - sick. Or tired. Euijin is not proud of it, but he did cancel on them once or twice, faking illness, just because he couldn’t bear looking at them. At what their little assorted group of idols with various level of success meant. Not when he was… like this. It’d been a bad time with his crew, too, and honestly, Euijin had been so afraid he’d be jealous, sad, ugly on the inside. Still is, to an extent.

It's just a coincidence that Euijin remembers the exact date, though. They met up a little after Kijung's birthday, celebrated his newfound adulthood together. Junyoung was the one to say none of them are qualified to perform Boyhood songs anymore. Hyunggeun was the one to reply with Age is just a number, with that horribly overdone sleazy voice. To Gwangsuk, Euijin says, "I don't know."

"Too long," Gwangsuk sighs. Euijin briefly wonders if he counted the months, years too - you never know with the almighty Feeldog, after all.

(Euijin is willing to bet all his Makestar money that Gwangsuk did, in fact, count. You never know with him - except you do. His heart is just too big.)

"Hey," Euijin starts. "We should meet up. Bond again. It'll be good practice for the concert."

"Maybe we can marathon The Unit together," Gwangsuk suggests. "Laugh at all the dumb shit we did. Cry."

Euijin snorts. "What better way to bring your team closer than cry at how someone plasters all your insecurities on TV for people's entertainment."

"Hey," Gwangsuk's voice is soft, so soft. "It may be true, but it was still good. Nothing is easy with us, right? But we're still here. We're all still here."

Here, as in struggling to keep your tiny circle of spotlight in this giant, overcrowded jungle of a stage? Here as in... existing. At this point, it's the same thing. Maybe he's been quiet for too long, maybe Gwangsuk picks up on the desperate need of a change of topic like the good leader he is.

Whatever it is, his voice is a lot lighter when he says, "Correction. What better way to bond than making fun of all the ruined makeup and stitched-together drama."

"What indeed," Euijin breathes. The memories are fuzzy at best - the daily incidents that drove him up the wall at the time and made him laugh later - all of them are maybe-s at best. Nonexistent at worst.

The details may be gone, but Euijin remembers the feeling. It was hard, sure. But it was good.

It was so, so good.

*

A few days later, Euijin's phone rings. It's early, too early.

(Not music program-early, though. Once he's had a moment to process the fact that he's awake, he realizes that... maybe he kind of misses the small hours where it's too late to be night but not quite early enough for morning. Who would believe.)

His phone rings again and - right. Euijin was supposed to pick that up.

He does that without thinking, not really, so when Yoochan's face grins at him from his own screen, Euijin is left somewhat startled. Belatedly, he realizes his own camera is on too,  _ of course, _ because this is a video call. He gives a little wave, which feels impossibly lame but hey, at least it makes Yoochan giggle?

"Wakey wakey, grandpa." He sing-songs waving his camera around. "The sun is high up already, what are you doing sleeping in?"

"Disrespecting me first thing in the morning," Euijin scolds, going for a frown but it really must not work, because Yuchan just laughs some more. "So rude, no manners,"

"Please," Yuchan says. He gets really close to the camera, flutters his eyes all innocent. It's not even a serious attempt at being cute, damn it, but Euijin still has to resist the urge to coo. "Everyone knows you're my favorite hyung."

There's a chorus of  _ hey _ -s around him but Yoochan flaps a hand behind him like he's swatting away a particularly annoying fly. A second later, Junhee's face pushes into the frame and he says, very seriously,

"You and I both know this is a lie."

"Hello to you too, Junhee," Euijin says, tragically failing at keeping his smile in check.

Junhee just narrows his eyes, only manages to mutter something that sounds a lot like  _ I'm watching you, _ before Yoochan pushes him away.

"Anyway," Yoochan says a moment later, still smiling, except it's a lot more subdued now. "We're getting back together, huh. At least for a bit."

Euijin shrugs. "So I've heard." He settles back into his pillows, then readjusts the camera so Yoochan won't experience the magnificent view of his wall.

"Gwangsuk-hyung called me last night. Or this morning?" Yoochan starts, then falters. "I'm not actually sure. Time blurs together when you're on tour."

"You're on tour?" Euijin asks dutifully.

"Is this how much I mean to you?" Yoochan whines, but there's no heat to it.

He thinks about his Instagram, opened to the ACE_in_Amsterdam hashtag, then shrugs. "I can't keep up with everyone, I'm too old for social media."

He knows Yoochan is on tour, of course. Sure, he's not always great at keeping up with all the groups his friends are from, but this particular one is rather easy to follow. A.C.E's popularity kept growing steadily over the past few years - they're far from a global sensation but out of all of them, Yoochan probably has had the most successful five years so far. Still, his eyes shine with excitement and even though Euijin knows exactly where he is on the planet right now, he wants to hear it again.

"Well, we just wrapped up a show in Amsterdam. It's," Yoochan moves away from the phone, presses a few buttons. "Eleven p.m. apparently? We'll be heading back to the hotel soon but I'll probably crash straight into bed and I wanted to call you."

"I'm really happy for you," Euijin says without thinking and Yoochan purses his lips, but it does nothing to dissolve the feeling of a pleased puppy Euijin is getting, even from who-knows-how-far-away, through a crackly video connection. "Anyway," Euijin continues, because that's too many feelings right there. "You said Gwangsuk called?"

“Yeah,” Yoochan laughs. “He said he’s calling us in age order but apparently Daewon didn't pick up. He seemed kinda pissed his grand binge calling idea failed, to be honest.”

Euijin takes a moment to process this. “You mean he called you all in the same night? In age order?”

Yoochan hums in agreement. “Come to think of it, he never mentioned you?”

“Oh yeah he called me too,” Euijin hurries to reply. “It was before that. I’m the oldest, after all?”

A few days before that. Euijin tries not to read too much into it.

“I can't believe he ruined his own grand idea before it even started!” Yoochan exclaims. “And then had the decency to grumble to  _ me.”  _ His expression morphs into a deceivingly cute one. Euijin remembers  _ that. _ “You old men are so weird.”

“Who are you calling-” but Euijin doesn't have time to finish because the video feed goes black and the call disconnects not soon after.

His kakao is flooded by heart emojis almost right away.

_ Sorry,  _ the first message with actual text reads,  _ the wifi isn't good at all here. You know I love you ♥♥♥ _

Euijin rolls his eyes. He sends a heart back, though, because as much as a brat Yoochan is, you just can't stay mad at him for long. Especially not when the heart emojis are followed by a pouting selfie? Euijin wonders if this is how parents feel.

He types a,  _ go to bed, you idiot.  _

And follows it with a string of hearts because he’s  _ weak. _

*

Bigflo haven’t lived in the same space for a while now, what with Byunghwa getting married and then - well. They’re not getting any younger. Sungmin and Hyungmin are the only ones who still live together, mostly out of convenience. The youtube channel is picking up slowly but it  _ is  _ picking up and that’s something, right there.

The point is, Euijin now has a tiny apartment alone and is quite used to it. What’s important here, however, is that he doesn’t remember ever inviting any of the UNB children over. Gwangsuk is the only one that has been to his home a few times over the past few years but even that feels so long ago it’s a little surreal. Logic dictates, non-Gwangsuk members shouldn’t even know where he lives.

Which fails to explain the bundle of noise that barrels through Euijin’s front door as soon as he opens it.

Euijin finds himself with an armful of Junyoung, while Daewon is looking around curiously, Kijung trailing right after. He gives a little wave and has the decency to look apologetic, at least. Must be the age difference.

“Well,” Daewon says, looking around curiously. “Nice space. I like it.”

“Hello to you too,” Euijin grumbles, trying and failing to balance all one-hundred and eighty centimetres of overgrown baby in his arms. “How did you even find my address?” He pats Junyoung’s back, somewhat awkwardly, and gets squeezed tighter for his trouble.

Daewon shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Gwangsuk. He thought it might be a good idea to try and bond again before the fireworks start.”

“I missed you,” Junyoung mumbles, finally extracting himself from Euijin to grin down at him. It’s a bit watery, just like his eyes. “It’s been an eternity since we last saw each other!”

“We did go to see your movie together last year.” Euijin points out, although he does pull Junyoung back for another, shorter hug. He moves on to Kijung next because, damn, he hadn’t realized how much he misses the kid.

Kijung feels much like Junyoung does - like an overgrown kid - but it’s so different from the way he was when they were still active. He’s not bigger per se, but he has grown into this new, 2.0 version of Kijung which feels a lot less like the adopted son they all considered him as back then. His hugs are just as nice, though, and when he smiles and goes, _ I missed you too, hyung,  _ it’s… really not that different. Not from a year ago, not from four years ago.

“What about me?” Daewon pouts, crossing his arms. It looks ridiculous and they all know it, which is exactly why Daewon just pouts harder.

“You don’t even say hi and now expect a hug?” Euijin huffs, but he is already moving forward so it’s sort of a moot point.

“You do have a nice place, though,” Junyoung says, walking further into the apartment. He flops onto the couch like he belongs there and Euijin finds he doesn't mind one bit. 

“It’s kinda small-” he starts to say like the humble man his mom taught him to be-

“It’s perfect,” Daewon interrupts, patting his TV. Junyoung and Kijung nod, and suddenly Euijin is not entirely sure what’s happening.

“Gwangsuk-hyung had this idea,” Kijung starts, kicking Junyoung’s legs off the couch to settle beside him, not an ounce of apology on his face, “that the bonding should be done by rewatching The Unit together. Your place is perfect.”

The image of nine grown men trying to squeeze onto his couch flashes through Euijin’s mind and suddenly, he fears for his furniture. “It’s really small,” he tries again, but just like the last time, he’s interrupted.

“Nonsense. It’s cozy, feels like home and that is exactly what we need!” Junyoung says, face alight with excitement and how does one fight that? You simply don’t fight it, that’s how. Junyoung knows it too, because his smile grows impossibly wide. “It’s settled then. We’re having weekly TV nights at your apartment. Or at least, we’ll try for weekly. I heard Hotshot are preparing for a comeback now that Hojung is back and they’re all, you know. Free.”

“Okay,” Euijin concedes finally. With the three equally blinding smiles that meet the answer, he has no choice but to smile back.

Euijin suspects he never really had a choice in the first place.

*

“You could’ve told me, you know,” Euijin says into the receiver later that night.

Gwangsuk laughs on the other end of the line. “Where’s the fun in that? I never told them we should meet at your place, anyway.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Euijin huffs. “You knew very well they’d decide that for themselves once they _ come visit.” _

“Do I look like a fortune teller to you?” Gwangsuk asks, in that flat voice that, to the casual listener, would sound like he either thinks you’re an idiot or he doesn’t care for the conversation at hand. Most likely both. 

But Euijin hasn’t been the casual listener for quite a while now. “You’re such an asshole.”

This, apparently, is all it takes for the indifferent façade to break. Gwangsuk laughs again and Euijin takes a moment to just breathe it in - Gwangsuk’s laughter, this inexplicable warmth that doesn’t seem to be going away ever since the kids left. It feels a bit like coming home. Not necessarily because of the rest of the boys, not really, even though they play a huge part in it too. It feels like hope, and Euijin hadn’t even realized that this hasn’t been a part of his life for a while now.

“You’ve been getting a bit distant lately,” Gwangsuk says quietly, none of the previous amusement present in his voice. “I’m glad you’re coming back to us.”

Euijin opens his mouth to protest because it’s not like that, he  _ tried, _ he has the birthday schedule in his phone and he hasn’t missed a single one. Still, the only thing that comes out is just, “Me too.”

So much.

*

Things pick up surprisingly fast after that but that’s the beauty of the k-pop world, Euijin thinks. He used to think of it as a curse on days that start at 3 a.m. and end up at midnight but Euijin has been mostly getting a solid eight hours of sleep for over a year now and it just feels  _ wrong. _

Junyoung creates a new group chat because apparently the old one has been jinxed by inactivity and every attempt to revive it is doomed to fail. His words.

The group chat is titled  _ new beginnings _ and there’s this weird, warm feeling in Euijin’s gut each time he sees it.

They set a up the first movie date for a Sunday because Hansol apparently officially finished his duty two days ago and Junyoung has a rare break from his drama shooting. Even apart from that, it seems no one is really active at the moment, so it’s not a hard decision. Except for Yuchan, of course, who’s in Brussels at the moment. Or was it Bucharest? (It’s Brussels. It takes Euijin approximately twenty minutes to turn off his notifications for each and every one of them, along with their group accounts, before movie night to avoid any awkward situations.)

On the night itself, Euijin dusts off every pillow in his apartment and sets them in a haphazard pile next to the couch. There is no way in hell eight grown men will fit on his couch, even on top of each other. There’s another haphazard pile on his counter, full of snacks and the mandatory selection of beer and soju lined in the fridge.

*

The first one to show up, somewhat surprisingly, is Hansol. It’s weird to see him with his hair like that, even though Euijin has seen pictures before. The Hansol in his doorway is a lot more real than what those pictures could ever help to achieve but he’s also a lot more different that what Euijin remembers. But then again, a lot can happen in a short amount of time and the time since him and Hansol saw each other last is anything but short. 

Gwangsuk and Daewon trail behind him, carrying snacks as well and Euijin just glances between the pile on his kitchen isle and the snacks in Gwangsuk and Daewon’s hands.

“Hey,” Hansol mumbles, not meeting Euijin’s eyes and it’s so much like those first days they’d had to get used to each other Euijin wants to punch himself.

But it has been a long, long time since those days. So he just opens his arms wide and Hansol, all one hundred and eighty centimetres of him, barrels into Euijin’s arms like this is all he waited for. Upon further inspection, it seems Gwangsuk gave him a little push judging by the smug look on his face and Daewon chuckling next to him, but Hansol doesn’t move, so Euijin will take it.

“I missed you too,” Euijin says, patting Hansol’s hair and it takes another few moments for Hansol to unfold himself from the hug and it’s the real one this time. The one that is not too shy to make fun of Gwangsuk or Euijin’s height and whose jokes mostly just Junyoung genuinely laughs at. 

“Enough with the sap,” Daewon interjects, hip-checking them apart on his way to the kitchen.

Gwangsuk gives each of them a long look. “I’ll have to agree with that,” he shrugs, then follows right after.

“Since when are you siding with  _ him?”  _ Hansol huffs, crossing his arms. The only reply is an alarming amount of muffled crunching noises coming from the kitchen.

Most of the others arrive not too long after, Junyoung bringing a reluctant Hojung along. Hyunggeun and Kijung text the group chat that they’re going to be late. Apparently Kijung’s practice ran late and Hyunggeun is still shooting videos for H.B.Y’s Makestar project.

It’s Gwangsuk that pulls up the videos on Euijin’s laptop. He takes a look at the boot-shaped thumbnail with two vague red blobs in the middle, turns back to them and says, “I suggest we skip auditions.”

Euijin thinks back to the long, long scene of Hyungmin crying and Hyungmin going home, just to be brought back and eliminated again almost right away.

“Totally on board with that,” Hansol agrees. 

It’s followed by a few more hums of agreement and Gwangsuk nods, then skips right to episode six.

“Ah,” Daewon laughs when the scene melts into the dimly lit rooms with all those goddamn crates. Sometimes Euijin can still feel the imprints on his butt, even five years later. “It must have been so weird for him to be all alone there.”

They watch in silence as Jeup follows in after Jungha, and then Daewon. One, two, three.  Hansol shuffles where he’s splayed himself across Junyoung’s lap, head pillowed on Hojung’s thighs. “It’s kinda funny watching people being all down for their number of boots considering where they ended up in the end.”

Hojung grumbles, then pushes himself off the armrest of the couch to slide onto the floor. Hansol gives him the stink eye, except it lasts for about ten seconds before Junyoung cards his fingers through his hair and the annoyance morphs into this hilariously content smile. It reminds Euijin of a kitten, honestly.

“I wouldn’t say funny,” Gwangsuk interjects just as Raehwan on the screen moves to, for all intents and purposes, hide in Sunghak’s lap. “But there it definitely is satisfying, that’s for sure.”

“Do you regret it?” Euijin dares to ask in the lull between three and four. Seunghyun enters next, and Euijin remembers introducing himself like that too. Another name, another team that should have been the forever. The question suddenly feels like it’s teared its way out of his throat along with something else, something Euijin can’t find the will to put a name to. “We all lost so much.”

“No.” Junyoung states, final. The dramatic part of Euijin wants to argue he had it easier, he had people’s hearts right from the get go, but in the end, if they had it easy none of them would be here in the first place.

Gwangsuk shuffles himself across the floor, then leans against Euijin’s knees. “We gained a lot too, though. The way I see it, it’s a fight. A bloody one, too - these people?” On the screen, Jo Hyunah is asking how Ungjae created Imfact’s entire album. “They just didn’t give up.” Gwangsuk says as he watches Ungjae head straight for his group members, boot score be damned. “We didn’t either.”

And then Seyong enters, and Euijin starts laughing, just like that. “Look at his shirt! He looks like an emo tween who writes shitty poems instead of his homework.”

“And you enter right after. Isn’t it just fate?” Daewon says, solemn. Euijin doesn’t have to see him to know he has that little smirk on. He thinks about throwing a pillow but the closest ones are already occupied by butts on the floor. The others are simply too far away. In the end, Euijin pretends he didn’t hear it and ignores the chuckles that follow.

Instead, a familiar face opens the doors on screen and Euijin laughs again. “Would you look at that. The beginning of the most epic drama throughout the whole show.”

“Oh please,” Daewon huffs. Gwangsuk’s ensuing laughter is abruptly cut off and he quickly shuffles to Euijin’s other side. “No drama was greater than the Big Choreo Fight.”

“What’s he doing anyway,” Hansol asks, unaware or maybe just uncaring of the potential quarrel about to break out. “I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Daewon shrugs, which jostles Euijin too. “Still wrapping up that musical. I’m trying to convince him to try solo but he’s still fighting me about it.”

“Aww, you’re like an old married couple,” Junyoung coos and then yelps a second later. Euijin has a feeling no one will be letting Daewon have the middle seat on the couch in the future.

“Man, this is so dramatic.” Hojung sighs as five turns to six and everyone loses their shit.

“I know,” Junyoung agrees, except his voice is full of regret. “I still can’t believe I missed it. Look at Donghyun-hyung being all badass!”

“It’s okay,” Hansol says, patting Junyoung’s knee. “He doesn’t understand the struggle.”

Daewon deadeyes all three of them, and it’s almost a palpable thing. “You all were literally in the top ten from the get-go.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Gwangsuk coughs into his hand, and five pairs of eyes land on him.

“Every person on that show,” Daewon says, stressing every word, “coaches included, regarded you as some sort of a deity walking among us regular humans.”

Gwangsuk shrugs. “Didn’t care then, don’t care now.”

“You’re not even denying it,” Hojung points out.

Euijin bends over the armrest and Gwangsuk, squishing his head against the couch in the process, and reaches for one of the pillows. It ends up in Daewon’s face. “Would you all shut up? We almost missed Hyunggeun.”

“Oh boy, the hair,” Hansol breathes. “I’m so glad they convinced him to change it.”

Then Gwangsuk walks in and everyone goes quiet for a long moment.

_ “Didn’t care then, don’t care now,” _ Daewon says in a poor imitation of his voice.

“Oh my god,” Junyoung exclaims, his palm landing on Hansol’s thigh so loudly, Euijin winces in sympathy. “Look at Yuchan! He’s so starstruck.”

“It’s cute,” Gwangsuk agrees and Euijin feels himself nodding, even though the rest are probably not paying attention. Yuchan  _ is  _ cute and that’s the one universal fact that will never change. Even if he’s also a little shit once you get to know him.

It’s this exact moment that Euijin’s phone starts pinging in rapid succession. Junyoung’s does too, and so does Hojung’s. Euijin leans over and pauses the video (right on a ridiculous stop-motion shot of Gwangsuk laughing) and unlocks his phone. Sure enough, Kijung is currently spamming the group chat with things like  _ i’m here  _ and _ please open _ and  _!!!!!!!!!!! _

Euijin laughs but gets up to open the door, then proceeds to be smothered by an out of breath Kijung. It’s like an eclipse. Seriously, what do they feed this boy? On most days, he prides himself of being slightly taller than Gwangsuk - today is not one of them.

“What did I miss?” Kijung yells, bounding into the living room as soon as he lets Euijin breathe. He proceeds to flop on the couch, right where Euijin was sitting ten seconds ago. Time to accept the fate of being booted off of your own couch, then.

“We skipped the auditions and the super-boots are about to enter.” Daewon explains and barely waits for Euijin to settle onto the floor before he unpauses the video.

Kijung gasps, loud and dramatic. “That’s us!”

“Look at you leading the group,” Gwangsuk sighs wistfully, in voice that sounds suspiciously a lot like a parent’s, “you beanpole.”

There are a few chuckles but no one comments. They’ve long since learned that, for all his rationality and natural leadership, Gwangsuk is not above petty revenge. Not at all.

“We do look cool though,” Kijung mutters, making himself comfortable on Daewon’s shoulder.

“Aww, look at Hansol,” Hojung coos, expertly avoiding Hansol’s hand flailing in his general direction. “You were so shy back then. I kinda miss it.”

“You’ll miss other things-” but they don’t get to hear what the things are, because Junyoung catches Hansol’s wrist mid-swing which gets him really quiet, for some reason. No one comments.

“Okay but,” Daewon starts watching the girls form their own teams, “This Lena kid is adorable? Look at her fangirling. I think I’m in love.”

Gwangsuk laughs. “Does she remind you of your children? We’re going to be seeing the angel-Daewon occurence very soon, right?”

Daewon attempts to kick him in… anywhere, apparently, but all he manages to kick is the air out of Euijin’s lungs. He doesn’t seem sorry either way. “Not my fault you all were too busy forming the Avengers Team to help the kids.”

“How did Seyong say it,” Euijin pipes up, “Daewon is an angel and his home is heaven?” His side hurts a bit and Daewon definitely doesn’t seem like an angel now but the guy has a heart of gold (most of the time) and no one can deny that.

Hojung gives him a look from the other side of the couch. “You remember his exact words?”

“They’re memorable words,” Euijin defends and that is that.

The teams are forming and he tunes out most of the banter around him - Junyoung making fun of Gwangsuk for whatever he sees fit, Kijung whining that their fighting disturbs his precious peace and he’s tired and can they please act like adults goddamn it?

It feels weird watching this on screen. It felt weirder the first time because the memories were still fresh but it’s still hard to believe. Like all those things happened somewhere else, to someone else.

Euijin watches Seyong explain his supposed rivalry with Gwangsuk and thinks about all the people he lost contact with over the five short years. The whole thing feels like it was yesterday and an eternity ago at the same time.

In come MAS and their adorable introduction and sure, they all make fun of Daewon for the whole thing but in the end, all of them wish they were brave enough. Junyoung, predictably, coos each time Dongmyeong shows up on screen and Hansol, just as predictably, glares at him in return. Euijin gets it. A lot of the memories from the show are blurred already, little details getting lost with each new memory but the feeling is something Euijin remembers well. It’s a restlessness, somewhat warm - they were all each other’s rivals, yes, but in the end they were all in the same boat too. Still are. Fighting tooth and nail for something that keeps you in the dark, constantly, waiting for that one ray of sunshine that will make the endless night worth it. A lot of times Euijin wonders if it’s worth it. Some of those times he’s sure it’s not. And then there’s a ray of light again. It seeps into his bones, nestles into his heart and suddenly the dark isn’t so dark anymore.

Despite all the teasing, watching everything again smarts in places Euijin hasn’t visited in a long time. But there’s a ghost of the light too, and if he looks hard enough it’s there - on his couch, on the laptop screen.

_ Do you regret it? _ Euijin asks again, quietly, in his mind only.

And it’s his own voice that replies with a definite,  _ No. _

*

Hyunggeun makes it just in time to catch the previews of the next episode and he frowns at all of them. “Can’t we just watch the next episode too? I missed everything.”

“It’s just half an hour,” Gwangsuk shrugs, then looks back at them. “Anyone has anything important to do?”

“Probably yes,” Junyoung says offhandedly, “But who cares?”

Hyunggeun pulls a pillow, Kijung makes himself comfortable, halfway on Daewon’s lap and that’s that.

*

It’s really a short episode, and yet Euijin still spaces out through most of it. There are a lot of things to make fun of - the entirety of Moonkyu’s team, Hansol in particular (courtesy of Junyoung). The beginning of the epic saga of Seyong and Euijin’s relationship through the show, as Daewon puts it. Daewon himself, being all cute and sweet and motherly.

“I can’t believe you managed to hide your snakey persona for so long,” Hyunggeun sighs, expertly dodging a kick in the ribs.

“They are my children and deserve the world.” Daewon states, completely serious.

This gets Euijin’s attention. “Wait, are? You still keep in touch?”

“You bet he does,” Junyoung laughs. “It’s a miracle he hasn’t adopted Dongmyeong’s brother’s group as well.”

Daewon glares at the room at large. “They’re adorable and you all suck.”

“They absolutely are,” Junyoung agrees easily. He wheezes a second later, and judging by Hansol’s satisfied expression Euijin definitely doesn’t want to know.

Gwangsuk nudges his thigh. “What, you don’t keep in touch with the people you met there?”

“I mean, sort of. I keep in touch with you?” Euijin tries. “I’ve met with other people too over the years. Everyone is always so busy though.”

“Aw,” Kijung says. In his attempt to get closer to Euijin, he almost tumbles off Daewon and the couch - if it wasn’t for Daewon’s hand around his waist, he’d definitely be on the floor right about now. He continues like nothing happened at all. “You know as much as the next idol we always make time for friends. Somehow. Have you tried?”

“Of course I have,” Euijin huffs. He thinks to the last time he texted someone from the show. It was more often during the first few months, year. And then the time between texts got longer, things settled. Isn’t this how it’s supposed to go?

Gwangsuk pats his thigh again but doesn't comment further and Euijin is glad. He’s not sure what he could say to explain the empty feeling in his gut if they questioned him about it.

*

“Maybe we can invite Moonkyu or Donghyun next time. Or Junhee, once they come back.” Daewon suggests once the episode is over and they’re slowly making their way through the mountain of snacks. 

Gwangsuk hums, putting down the bag of chips in his hand. “Moonkyu and Junhee are fine since they probably know already but the whole reunion concert should be under wraps for now.”

“Moonkyu doesn't know yet,” Hojung says. With seven pairs of curious eyes now trained on him, he just shrugs. “I thought it would be better to tell them once we have more solid information. A lot of us are in this type of situation so it’s not like anyone questions us meeting up either.”

“Most of my guys don't know either.” Euijin mumbles. It’s a little different for him - they no longer live together, they’re not that close. Enlistment. Certainly not as much as a consistently active group is. Not that it stopped him from telling Hyungmin almost as soon as the manager broke the news but that had a lot more to do with hope for them than the prospect of getting UNB back together for the sake of it. Honestly, at this point making them rewatch the show just feels plain cruel.

“So we keep it on a group-only basis for now.” Gwangsuk states and the rest of them nod because even now, years later, he’s still the leader.

Euijin nods too, even if a distant part of him longs to press a few buttons on his phone, a number he still remembers for some reason. To send a text. Maybe even call.

His phone remains untouched. The snacks are gone and Kijung is the first to go because he has practice tomorrow too, but mainly because the rest all but kick him out to increase his chances of rest. Hojung follows not long after and so does Hansol. Junyoung follows Hansol, because of course he does. Hyunggeun is the one that lingers, lost in conversation with Daewon and Euijin lets them. It feels nice, like when they were still active and trying to breathe in between promotions. 

Gwangsuk nudges him, where he’s perched on the coach’s armrest now. “See? This is how it looks like when people catch up.”

“I catched up with you all night,” Euijin points out.

“All I’m saying,” Gwangsuk continues, “Is that just because some time has passed and some things have changed, doesn’t mean you should. Unless you want to, of course.”

Euijin considers this. It hasn’t been a lot of years but they were very… slow years. For the most part. “I’m just not sure if it’s worth it anymore.”

Gwangsuk stays quiet for a few long, long minutes. And then, “Are you free tomorrow? I wanna show you something.”

“I’m always free these days,” Euijin snorts, although it doesn’t feel funny. “What’s the something?”

“You’ll see,” Gwangsuk says. There’s that little smile on his face, the one that screams he knows more than he lets on and Euijin finds himself smiling back. They both know that tomorrow Euijin will be ready to be taken wherever Gwangsuk fancies taking him to. Because that’s just how the world works.

*

Eventually Hyunggeun and Daewon leave too, gently prompted by Gwangsuk. Euijin lays in his bed, alone, staring at the ceiling. There’s a niggling feeling somewhere in his chest, something that may be sunshine, hope, excitement except it’s too small now. But it’s there and Euijin feels it and that’s a lot already.

He has his phone in one hand, thumb hovering over a contact. It stays there until the screen goes black but Euijin makes no move to turn it back on.

Instead he leaves his phone on the nightstand, turns around and lets himself bathe in the maybe sunshine, hope, excitement, until sleep finally takes him.

*

Euijin doesn’t hear from Gwangsuk for the entirety of the next day. He makes sure to wake up a bit earlier than usual, just in case - even spends some extra time with breakfast. It’s a bright and sunny day, the kind of sunny you wouldn’t expect this late in fall. Frankly, Euijin hasn’t felt this light in a long while. Breakfast comes and goes, lunch rolls around. Euijin spends his time in between scrolling through his phone rewatching old videos, even updates instagram because why the hell not.

It’s not until his stomach reminds him that this is usually the time where Euijin would go out for dinner with friends, or make something himself, that the doubt starts settling in. In all their years of friendship, Gwangsuk hasn’t given him a single reason for doubt, and yet. It’s already dark outside. Euijin tries his best to stifle the nagging feeling of disappointment, reasons it’s childish but in the end, the empty feeling in his chest stays. 

The text comes around eleven. 

Euijin checks his phone, then checks it again, just in case his mind was playing tricks on him the first time. The message says:  _ meet me at the convenience store outside your apartment. bring something warm, it’s chilly _

The clock still reads eleven. Euijin considers just pretending he never saw the text, went to bed and turned off his phone. A part of him wants to, just to make Gwangsuk feel bad for essentially causing all the shitty emotions Euijin has been feeling today. But it’s Gwangsuk. And he kept his promise.

In the end, Euijin just puts on a jacket, grabs a snapback too, just in case. It’s not beanie weather quite yet but he doesn’t exactly feel like sitting in the cold god knows where either.

Gwangsuk is already there when he arrives, wrapped in a jacket and with a face mask on. Honestly, if Euijin didn't expect to see him there, he might not have recognized him.

“Put this on,” Gwangsuk says in lieu of greeting. He pushes another face mask in Euijin’s hands. With the mask and the snapback, he’s probably unrecognizable. It’s not like he’s very recognizable without them, but those are thoughts for another time.

Gwangsuk tugs at his sleeve, then leads him towards the subway. It’s one of the advantages the real estate agent had pointed out when trying to sell the apartment to Euijin. Only a five-minute walk to the subway, really easy access! It’s more of a fifteen to twenty minute walk, Euijin found out pretty quick but he doesn’t regret it. With or without the subway, there’s pretty good transportation around the apartment, a lot of small shops. It’s pretty but more than that it’s  _ his  _ and Euijin loves it. 

They change subway lines, and then again. Euijin has been using more ground transportation lately, so it takes a while to figure out the direction they’re going in. But then - of course. He has been at Gwangsuk’s place before. The old one, the new one. Bora is a great host and Euijin had a great time both times, even if it was a bit awkward at the beginning.

The stop they get off at is not Gwangsuk’s, though. The station is rather deserted, although it might be due to the hour. It’s almost midnight at this point. The street outside seems just as deserted, although there are still a few 24-hour stores open, the light from their windows illuminating the spots where the street lamps don’t reach.

“Are we getting back by taxi?” Euijin asks. It’s not that he particularly minds, except his schedule isn’t exactly brimming full at the moment and a small fortune on taxi just sounds… unnecessary. Avoidable. 

Then again, he’s here now so maybe not so avoidable.

Gwangsuk shrugs. “I don’t live all that far away, you can crash at my place. Already asked Bora about it.”

Bora. Right. A few years ago, the name had made funny little feelings gnaw at Euijin’s insides but he’s somewhat proud to find out none of them are present anymore. A wedding would do that to you. “I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable sharing a bed with you and your wife,” Euijin says in the end, grin hidden behind the mask. 

“Asshole,” Gwangsuk laughs and that’s hard to hide, even if muffled. “We have a perfectly good couch. You can get home at a more reasonable time tomorrow. Don’t you know I have a habit of picking up strays?”

“Sure, but you also lived with four other guys then.” Euijin points out. “Man, I really don’t miss sharing a bathroom with a million people.”

Gwangsuk laughs again. “Amen to that. I mean, I love them but. No. Isn’t it weird that no one really cared back then?”

“Absolutely,” Euijin agrees instantly. They turn a corner, and there are less shops here, less lights. It seems rather industrial. “I guess we were just used to it and now that we know there’s another possibility it’s like… how have I lived so far? It might be just us getting old, though.”

“Excuse you, I’m still young.” Gwangsuk huffs. “You’re right, I guess. Kind of like those asshole rags to riches people - you gain the advantages of a better life and suddenly the old one seems unlivable.”

Euijin nods solemnly. “The impact of your own, separate bathroom.”

Gwangsuk aims a kick at his shins but he’s laughing, too, so Euijin is not too worried.

“We’re here,” Gwangsuk announces a few minutes later and gestures at the wall of a huge building, lining nearly a full block. A factory maybe? There are shitty drawings on the wall, that sad excuse of graffiti only a semi-literate teenager is capable of. Far different from the actual street art Euijin has seen around. Far different from art, really.

“I have to be honest,” he says, scanning the wall. “It kind of seems like you’ve brought me here to murder me.”

“Au contraire,” Gwangsuk says in a terrible French accent, as he pulls off his backpack. Out come a few cans of… spray paint? “We’re here to right the wrongs.”

There are a million thoughts running through Euijin’s brain. They can get arrested or worse, have an article about them and then get arrested. Granted, neither of them is a superstar but they both have enough of a career for it to be ruined. There are a lot of cons, and yet, what comes out of Euijin’s mouth is. “I’m not that good at drawing.”

Gwangsuk just shrugs. “So what. They’re not either, except you’re also not an asshole. Come on,” he says, throwing a can at Euijin. It’s a miracle Euijin manages to catch it before it hits him in the forehead.

“That’s pink.” Euijin points out, squinting at the can. It is, indeed, pink. A darker one, it seems - it has a better chance at covering up the black letters.

“So what?” Gwangsuk asks, picking up another can, shaking it like he’s used to it. Maybe he is. They did pass a lot of pretty murals on the way here. “Be creative.”

And then he covers all the writings in yellow.

It takes a bit of work before the letters are no longer legible under the yellow paint but Gwangsuk looks so proud of himself, eyes shining above his mask and fingers stained yellow. Euijin is in awe.

“Come on,” Gwangsuk turns to him again, points at the can in Euijin’s hand. “Leave a bit of yourself.”

It’s horribly cheesy, both Gwangsuk’s words and the idea that’s slowly forming in Euijin’s head. He steps closer to the wall, lifts his hand. It’s just a stupid drawing on a stupid wall, so far away from home. It’s stupid and it means nothing and it means everything. It’s a heart Euijin draws at the corner of all the yellow and it’s so misshapen it looks more like a blob of color than an actual heart but Gwangsuk just laughs, then lines it with black. It looks intentional now, the color spilling out of the black lines, it looks _ pretty. _

It’s exhilarating, being part of something beautiful. In the flickering light of the street lamp the pink heart looks more reddish and without thinking, Euijin grabs the can of  black out of Gwangsuk’s hands and paints a zig-zag line, straight in the yellow under it.

“Cute,” Gwangsuk comments. He draws another, smaller heart next to the pink one with real red this time. He outlines that one, too. “They suit each other, don’t you think?”

Euijin doesn’t reply and Gwangsuk doesn’t press further. 

It’s eerily quiet, just the sound of the occasional car passing on the street. As he watches Gwangsuk outline a floppy flower around the hearts, Euijin wonders what those people’s stories are. If they have settled like he has. Or maybe they’re still kicking, reaching for their own set of stars.

He wonders if it’s too late to change.

“He asks about you, you know,” Gwangsuk says eventually, twirling the lid of the can of black between his fingers. “I know you keep in contact, despite the tough guy act you’re trying to pull off, but he still asks me about you.” 

He asks Euijin himself too, and Euijin wonders just how fake all those conversations seemed if he’d had to resort to asking Gwangsuk as well.

In the end, Euijin picks up the red paint and attempts another heart, this one a little less shapeless than the first one. It’s close to it, though, and once Gwangsuk finishes the flower he outlines the new heart, too. 

“Look at you,” he says, smiling. He clinks his spray can against Euijin’s. “Doing illegal stuff and everything. Didn’t you miss being an idiot?”

“I won’t miss jail.” Euijin grumbles, but bumps Gwangsuk’s hand when the outline gets a bit too wide. The result ends up being slightly more wonky than strictly necessary but Gwangsuk puts a few blobs of color here and there and writes it off as artsy, so really, who cares?

They end up just staring at their creation for a few minutes. “I like how it turned out, honestly.” Gwangsuk says. “Much better than before.”

It is, but the moment feels too… important to break with words. The colors look beautiful even in the dark and Euijin can’t help but imagine them in daylight. He picks up a can of black, then draws a smiley face in the center of the flower. “Indeed,” he finally says aloud.

“Why don’t you write my name, too?” Gwangsuk laughs, but doesn’t make to cover up the smiley. He does pull the can of black out of Euijin’s hands, though. And then he halts, staring at the wall again. “Actually, let’s make paint something gold. Like us.”

He throws a new can at Euijin and he shakes it on instinct before he pulls off the cap. “That’s glitter.”

Gwangsuk gasps, clutching at his heart. There are faint yellow imprints on his shirt when he finally drops his hands but Euijin doesn’t get time to dwell on it, because the can of paint is snatched from him in the next second. “That’s shimmer and you’re an idiot.” He paints some of the flowers gold and honestly, it looks a little bit like a child’s painting. One of those you’d like to hang on your fridge, though.

“Still looks like glitter to me,” Euijin says when Gwangsuk puts the can back in his backpack.

“Still an idiot, then.” Gwangsuk states, but he’s smiling. “It’s as gold as anything, I think. Pretty on the outside, hard concrete and some obscenities under. Just like us. Come on,” he adds, not waiting for Euijin to reply. He wouldn’t know what to reply, anyway. “Bora will worry. I may not be a boring old man like you yet, but I  _ am  _ a married one.”

“You are pretty old, honestly,” Euijin shrugs and laughs at the punch to his shoulder that follows.

They walk a few blocks away from the mural before they call for a taxi, just in case. The yellow isn’t as pretty as the one on the wall but it reminds Euijin of it anyway. 

No, he thinks absently as he climbs into the backseat after Gwangsuk, careful not to stain anything in the car. It may not be too late after all.

*

For what it’s worth, Bora isn't all that worried. She welcomes them both even though it’s getting well past three a.m., already aware Euijin is spending the night. He wonders how often Gwangsuk does it. They seem so in love and yet very little about their relationship fits into the neat little boxes Euijin grew up with. Their definition of what a good family should be has almost nothing to do with the brilliant smile Bora has at three a.m., patting down the sheet thrown over her couch. Then again, Euijin also grew up with words like  _ stable _ and  _ reliable _ in his future. There's nothing stable or reliable in the life he chose for himself.

And yet again, Euijin finds he wouldn't trade it for the world.

*

_ I have an idea, _ Junyoung texts the group chat the a few days later. 

_ Let’s get tattoos  _

_ Something small, that we’ll all share.  _

_ To remind us about all this _

_ Or something cheesy like that _

Euijin stares in disbelief at the stream of responses, changing too quickly for him to follow. There are a lot of exclamation marks involved.

It goes on for about five minutes, and just when the amount of responses slows, there’s a picture. It’s from Gwangsuk. It’s a sketch, a tiny fleet of paper planes, headed upwards. If he counts them, Euijin is one hundred percent sure there will be nine of them. 

He closes the group chat and dials Gwangsuk’s number.

“You’re supporting this?”

“I am,” Gwangsuk agrees. There’s the distant sound of a pencil flying over paper and Euijin can imagine him adding little details to that sketch, eyes alight with… something. Euijin has never really been able to name the something but it’s there each time Gwangsuk is excited, passionate about something. It’s very easy to get lost in it. “It’s a great idea, if we get everyone to do it. Even if not, it’s still a great idea.”

“I don’t even have something like that with my own group,” Euijin counters. “You don’t either.”

Gwangsuk’s quiet laughter fills his ears and there it is. He’s smiling. You don’t have to see it to know the smile is there. “How do you know?” You know, the way I see it,” Gwangsuk states, matter-of-fact, “Our groups are the forever. Us, this.” There’s the rustle of paper on the other end, and it’s probably the sketch Gwangsuk is waving around. “We’re the reminder that we may not be gold right now, but we can glitter pretty damn nice.”

Euijin chooses to stay quiet, because what do you even say to that? 

*

Once the idea is planted in their heads and more or less accepted by everyone, things move surprisingly fast.

Getting nine grown men together, crammed in the same tattoo studio in the dead of night is damn near impossible and that’s not even factoring the whole celebrity thing. So that’s off the table as a bonding experience but they are getting matching tattoos in the end.

The final decision is for each of them to have their own paper plane and not the full picture, because that may be easier to bullshit your way out of if it comes to that. They haven’t agreed to hide them or anything, and the media does tend to play dead at the sight of ink but in the end, matching tattoos for a temporary group is enough of an oddity to make a headline or two.

Gwangsuk designs each and every one for them specifically. To no one’s surprise, Hyunggeun re-designs his own. It’s not that different from the rest of them but it’s very distinctly him and a part of Euijin wishes he had that type of confidence in his own abilities, when it doesn’t come to dancing. The bigger part of him, though, is in love with Gwangsuk’s design and really, immortalizing his art like this is something Euijin never thought he’d look forward to. 

It’s Gwangsuk that knows a guy, too, because of course he does. They don’t set a schedule to visit the guy but they do put a deadline to get the tattoos done. Euijin is a hundred percent sure at least half of them will bump into each other in the tattoo studio, on the very day of the deadline.

_ The next time we meet for watching the show, _ Junyoung threatens over text,  _ I’m throwing you out unless some part of your body is wrapped in plastic. _

Euijin considers arguing for a hot second because they’ll most likely be in his home. But then again, Junyoung is perfectly capable of throwing him out of his own apartment. Euijin is sure Hansol, at the very least, will help.

*

They schedule the next viewing marathon a few days after Yuchan is back from Europe, a Sunday again

It’s partly because they don’t actually want to kill Yuchan, but also so he has time to get himself into the tattoo artist’s studio. His words. Junyoung, as per usual, offered to excuse him for “obvious reasons”. Yuchan, on the other hand, turned out to be one of the most vocal supporters of the idea, even if he doesn’t seem too excited about the prospect of needles.

Kijung, Hyunggeun and Junyoung do the impossible (their words) to arrange for the same day off and the rest just sort of… work around that. Hojung is busy as well, even if he doesn’t make a fuss about it. Euijin only knows because even if his notifications are off, he’s doing rather well with keeping an eye on them. 

Neither of the rest are too busy, especially now when Yuchan is back. It seems they were given a whole week off to deal with jet lag and recharge before comeback season heats up.

The place is, once again, Euijin’s tiny apartment.

*

Euijin books his appointment with Gwangsuk’s guy for the day before they’re supposed to meet because, frankly, he’s scared.

It’s not necessarily the needling part of the whole ordeal - that he can live with. He’s okay with the idea of ink in general, too. What he’s scared of is just how excited he is for this tiny paper plane about to be inked into his skin, forever.

His appointment is in the afternoon so on the big day, Euijin finally does what his guilty conscience has been nagging him to do since this whole thing started. He calls Hyungmin.

It’s not that they’re particularly close, but they used to be the outsiders together which is close enough. He’s supposed to be the forever, after all.

The café they meet at is one of those cute, hole-in-the-wall places that Hyungmin likes to rave about on Youtube and Euijin tries not to laugh about it (in his face). He also pretends to think about what he’s ordering. Because Euijin absolutely doesn’t binge watch Mintwo’s videos late at night at the times when the apartment feels especially quiet. He also hasn’t spent hours in public transport to get to said café recommendations. Definitely.

“What’s up?” Hyungmin greets him from a table in the corner, a drink already in his hand. “How are the preparations for the concert going?” 

He looks more or less the same as the last time Euijin saw him and it makes him wonder why he expected different. It wasn’t that long ago.

Euijin shrugs. “They haven’t really started yet. I’ve met the guys a few times already, though.”

“Oh?” Hyungmin looks up, stops fiddling with the camera that seems to be always in his hands nowadays. “That sounds like a story.”

“I guess.” Euijin sighs, stirs the one, two, three packets of creamer into his coffee. “I’m getting a tattoo in a few hours.”

That gets Hyungmin’s full attention. “Really?”

And Euijin feels small, all of a sudden. Gwangsuk’s words were comforting at the time but in the end,  _ he doesn’t even have that with his own group. _ Hyungmin’s curious eyes on him feel like accusation of a crime Euijin is not sure he’s committed. 

“Gwangsuk designed these,” he unlocks his phone, then slides it across the table. The sketch of the paper planes is there on the screen, prepared beforehand lest Euijin manages to talk himself out of this conversation. “We’re each getting a paper plane but this is the full picture. It’ll be like a puzzle.”

Hyungmin squints at the phone, examining the photo. “It’s really cute, honestly. I wish I’d thought of that.”

Euijin, who was about to take a sip of his coffee (and probably burn his tongue) puts the cup down. “Really? I thought you’d be more… against it.”

“Why would I be against it?” Hyungmin asks, blinking at him. His eyes widen, then and he laughs. “Ah, because it’s with them but not with us?”

“Isn’t it weird?” Euijin asks, somewhat puzzled. He didn’t exactly expect rage and tantrums but the open glee in Hyungmin’s eyes is not something he thought he’d see, either.

Hyungmin rolls up his sleeves, pushes them almost up to his armpit. There’s a tattoo there that Euijin doesn’t remember seeing. It’s not a big one, the ink faded just enough to make it obvious it’s not a new tattoo. It’s a dandelion, seeds blown away by an invisible wind. “I have a sunrise on my ribs too, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to undress here.” Hyungmin laughs, moving closer so Euijin can examine the dandelion. “I got the sunrise one after we wrapped up promotions for Upside Down. And then the dandelion when the channel hit ten thousand subscribers. I’ve been bugging Sungmin to get one too, but he’s pretty stubborn about it.”

“I didn’t know,” Euijin mumbes, absently tracing the outline of the dandelion. He jumps away a second later because, damn, that must have looked weird. No one seems to be looking at them, though.

Hyungmin still laughs at him as he gets back to his original place. “I never told you. You know,” he continues, the amusement no longer lacing his voice. “We’ve never been one of the super close groups. But it’s okay, you know?” He meets Euijin’s eyes and he’s smiling again, a lot softer this time. “We’re still kicking and we’re kicking on our own as well. You’re allowed to have something that reminds you it’s worth it.”

They’re not the same words Gwangsuk said under that shitty street lamp days ago, but they’re close enough. Euijin smiles, for what feels like the first time in a long while. Hyungmin laughs again, then picks up his camera to film it because of course he does.

Just like that, the thought of that needle punching a paper plane into his skin doesn’t seem scary at all.

*

When Sunday arrives, most of the group hobbles in, hilariously protective of various parts of their body. Kijung his thigh because he’s not keen on his manager finding out just yet. Hyunggeun and Hojung both went for the lower back, for similar reasons and Hansol claims he hates them all because apparently shoulder blade tattoos hurt like a bitch. Junyoung whines just as much, although with a lot less glares going on.

Daewon, just like Euijin, chose his forearm, albeit in quite a different placement than Euijin’s.

“If they can cover up Block B Taeil’s tattoos on broadcasts, they can cover up a tiny paper plane.” Euijin states at the few incredulous stares he gets. In their defence, the tattoo is quite obvious.

“Wow, grandpa,” Daewon laughs, jumping away before Euijin can get to him. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Still waters and all that,” Gwangsuk says in lieu of hello, barging in with Yuchan on his heels, because apparently Euijin’s home is their home now. The assholes. “I lay claim on the couch.” He announces, kicking Hyunggeun’s legs off it. “You just had to suffer through a few minutes of pain, I had to fight Junhee and get stabbed by a needle afterwards.  _ And  _ hold Yuchan’s hand while he got tattooed afterwards. I can’t believe he chose  _ ribs  _ for his first tattoo.”

“Honestly,” Yuchan sighs, flopping right next to Gwangsuk. He makes a show of keeping his side away from any possibility of physical contact. “Sehyoon got a cactus tattoo, what was Junhee’s problem even?”

“Babies,” Gwangsuk and Daewon chorus, laughing at each other afterwards. “At some point,” Daewon says, “you start feeling like a parent. It’s never fun facing the fact that your child is all grown up.”

Yuchan rolls his eyes, then shuffles a bit further from Daewon. “And you were calling Euijin grandpa.”

But Daewon just shrugs, that universal _ What can you do?  _ expression on his face.

Euijin chooses to bask in his rare moment of not being The Old Man for once. In all honesty, he’d probably fight Gwangsuk too if he were in Junhee’s place. That’s not something they need to know, though.

*

“I don't understand why,” Euijin says a while later, for what feels like the umpteenth time. “Gwangsuk’s place is bigger and better. He has a nice, fancy TV which we can plug into the laptop too.”

“I also have a wife,” Gwangsuk counters. “And while I don’t think she would mind, why the hell would I subject her to…” He gestures towards the mountain of half opened bags of snacks on the floor. They haven’t even started yet. “This.”

“I’m a little intimidated by her, honestly.” Hojung admits.

“Which is hilarious,” Gwangsuk says with a completely straight face. “But not enough to change my mind.”

“Fine,” Euijin huffs. “Abuse the old guy’s hospitality.”

Kijung snorts, the little shit. “Didn’t you argue you're not that old not even twenty minutes ago?”

“Anyway,” Gwangsuk announces, before anyone gets physical. (Tickle fights probably. Euijin may be too old for that but Kijung certainly isn’t.) “Are we just marathoning today? We have,” he squints at the laptop’s clock, reading 13:03. “Maybe eight hours? We can probably get through half of the show.”

“Fine with me,” Yuchan says, already sprawled over Daewon, much like Kijung was the previous time. At some point Gwangsuk and Daewon had switched places because Daewon, with his arm being off limits, apparently makes for a much better human pillow. Kijung is rather unamused. “I missed out on the first few too.” Yuchan continues, making himself comfortable. “I have to admit, I’m still salty you didn’t wait for me.”

“We just couldn’t wait to make grandpa here suffer,” Hyunggeun cackles, then expertly avoids the pillow Euijin throws at him. Because he’s on the floor, again.

“And you don’t really need bonding time anyway,” Hojung mutters, gesturing towards where Junyoung and Hansol both have their eyes on Yuchan, equally, disgustingly fond. When they finally notice the seven pairs of eyes on them (Yuchan included), Hansol, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed. Junyoung is undeterred, however.

Daewon rolls his eyes. “Are we watching or not? Let’s not pretend the baby here,” he gently pats Yuchan’s hair, “won’t fall asleep halfway through.”

“Jetlag, sorry.” Yuchan shrugs, not even a hint of argument in his voice.

They start from episode eight which turns out to be a great idea, because Daewon has yet to grow numb to the drama and slip into full sass mode for the night. When the second the segment with MAS airs he goes,  _ My children!!! _ out loud.  _ Loud. _

“This is like a drama, honestly,” Yuchan mumbles as they all watch Ungjae being hilariously smitten. “With the leads in love and everything. A high school drama with the occasional old dude and the creepy weirdo.”

“He didn’t seem all that bad,” Kijung mumbles, slowly dragging a bag of honey butter chips towards himself like they’re not all watching him do it.

“Ah, but you know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” Yuchan laughs, snatching the chips out of Kijung’s hands. On his birthday party, back when Kijung turned twenty, he’d sworn with all the confidence of two bottles of soju, that he’d never do anything cute ever again because he’s an adult now. The resolution had lasted approximately ten minutes but it’s still something they fondly remember each time he plays the youngest card to get what he wants. Like now. 

“That’s just rude,” Kijung huffs when it becomes apparent that it won’t get him his chips back.

Yuchan shrugs. “You’re the youngest and therefore the least likely to have mobility issues yet. Go get yourself another bag.”

“Sometimes I feel like we have two babies,” Gwangsuk sighs. “I guess it’s technically true but still.”

Euijin gives each of them a critical once-over. “I’d add Junyoung and Hyunggeun to that too. Possibly Hansol as well.”

“Excuse you,” Yuchan exclaims, “”Baby does not equal idiot.”

“I am older than you,” Hansol hisses, reaching over Junyoung to maybe - flick Yuchan’s forehead? Straight up smack him? So much for the not getting physical thing.

Hansol’s arm gets caught by Junyoung before any impact is possible, though, and Yuchan giggles. “You may be, but he’s not.”

“Children, children.” Daewon interrupts. “The show. We’re watching a show.”

By the time they stop arguing team blue are already on the screen and Euijin cringes, because he remembers that one. Not one of his proudest moments, although, as Kijung point out a second later it’s,

“Your first clash with Seyong!”

“Rivalry,” Yuchan whispers ominously.

“Friendship,” Hyunggeun continues, expression so serious you’d think he’s narrating the news, not a bunch of his friends being idiots on TV.

“Love!” Junyoung adds, voice laced with a level of drama only someone who’s spent the last few years of his life acting can produce.

Euijin is not amused. Except he really, really is and it’s getting increasingly hard to keep a straight face. In the end, he just says, “I hate all of you.” And leaves it at that. He pretends not to hear Daewon and Gwangsuk laughing, but does glare at Hansol and Hojung because he expected them at least to be the bigger persons. 

Which is ridiculous, considering all the time he’s spent with them in the past. He gives himself a pass this time, though. A huge portion of that time was in the past, after all.

*

Yuchan does end up falling asleep halfway through the marathon and it doesn’t stop the teasing but it does make it whispered instead. There’s a lot of painful poking, muffled hissing and pillows being thrown and honestly, Euijin wonders how Yuchan manages to sleep through all of that.

Then again, you learn to sleep through quite a lot if you get little to no rest on the regular.

Kijung follows about an hour later, head pillowed on Hojung’s thigh on the floor, and eventually they just give up. Despite the predictions,they never reach the middle of the show. In fact, they've barely even passed beginning of the second mission when Gwangsuk just reaches to turn the episode off.

“I think this is enough marathoning for today,” he says, voice low as to not wake up the children. 

Hansol has been nodding off on Junyoung’s shoulder for a while now too and he startles when the background noise of their dramatic practice stops. He nods, although, honestly, Euijin isn’t sure he’s even aware of what Gwangsuk is saying.

Hojung pets Kijung’s hair, smiling when Kijung leans into it, even asleep. “At this rate, we’re going to finish this show sometime after the concert is over. Maybe even after we retire. It’s way too hard to coordinate so many schedules at the same time and without raising suspicion, too.”

“I don’t think we need it, honestly.” Euijin shrugs, and he can feel the eyes on him. It’s a somewhat unsettling feeling but at the same time, somewhere deep inside him something flutters. Maybe he’s missed having eyes on him after all, being the center of attention. Even among his own friends.

“I’ll have to agree,” Gwangsuk says, and is that pride in his eyes? Euijin blinks and it’s gone, so fast he’s not sure it was there in the first place. “The point of all this was to bond, avoid the part where first day of practice is just a lot of calculating side-looks. But we’re past that now, don’t you think?”

“We never lost touch to begin with,” Hyunggeun laughs. “I’m glad not a lot has changed, though. It wasn’t that long ago either, but I’m still happy to see you’re all still idiots.”

“Says who?” Daewon squeaks, kicking in Hyunggeun’s general direction and just like that, the unspoken rule of keeping noise to a minimum is broken. Yuchan startles awake just in time to get smacked in the face with the pillow thrown in Daewon’s direction and Kijung yelps when Hojung accidentally uses his head as the hard surface needed to push himself out of the way of Daewon’s attempts to strangle Hyunggeun.

Euijin moves away from the commotion, carefully avoiding wandering kicks and pillows being thrown around. Apparently he’s not as stealthy as he thinks, though, because Junyoung locks eyes with him, a rather concerning grin on his face.

Euijin’s suspicions are proven right a moment later, when a pillow hits him square on the face.

In the end, he's not sure the bonding was needed at all. It feels like they never disbanded at all, despite their lives being so different now. Both from each other and from themselves five years ago. 

Necessary or not, though, Euijin is glad it happened. He hadn't realized how much he missed them. And himself. 

*

(He doesn’t press the call button that night either. But he does press a send one, to a message that has been a long time coming. On the screen, it’s just a simple  _ hey, i haven’t seen you in so long, how have you been. _ But it’s bright and warm to Euijin’s eyes. It feels like hope and uncertainty - like a beginning. He’d spent a lot of nights over the years wondering what he could’ve done differently, what could’ve happened. As he watches the little 1 disappear from the message, it occurs to him that this may very well be one of those things. 

Another thought is stronger, shinier, though - a lot of things happened for Euijin to get where he is. And he doesn’t regret the journey one bit.)

*

The tattoos have long since healed by the time the concert is announced. A lot more people know at this point, too, and Euijin’s phone has been pinging nearly constantly these past few weeks. His parents are annoyed he never told them but he has the feeling they forgave him when he presented them with tickets. But apart from the grumpy relatives being kept out of the loop, there are a whole bunch of messages from people he hasn’t talked to in months, years. It’s all  _ congratulations, I’m happy for you!! _ and Euijin has been idol long enough to know nothing should be taken at face value but he chooses to forget that, just for a moment.

The tattoo may have healed but Euijin swears he feels it burn through his skin, a hundred times more intense than when it was still a fresh wound. The stage lights blind him and it takes a moment to adjust, to remember how to function under those. There’s a hand in his, and someone bumps his back, and someone else - Yuchan? - is laughing somewhere in the back. When Euijin opens his eyes again the lights don’t seem as harsh. It’s like riding a bike, maybe. It takes a few falls and maybe a stray tear to learn but once you do, it never goes away. And all the scrapes are all worth it.

(It’s not magic and fireworks when there’s a certain someone waiting for them after the lights dim and they’re shuffling off stage, caught somewhere between outright sobbing (Junyoung) or blinking away the few stray tears that managed to escape. That’s Euijin.

It’s so much like before that for a second it feels like none of those five years matter at all. But the second passes and the years are still there. So Euijin patiently waits for his turn to get a hug, doing his best to ignore Gwangsuk’s imploring eyes burning a hole in his back. If that hug lasts a second or two longer than necessary, well. No one calls him out on it.)


End file.
